


making gold

by losermoose



Series: magnus bane's adoption agency [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Clary is a good friend fuck u canon, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Accidents, Magnus Bane-centric, Panic Attacks, Simon-centric, Training, also jace is trans sorry i dont make the rules, my sons need help, not bad just, questionable, questionable parenting by jocelyn fairchild, the romances are fairly minor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losermoose/pseuds/losermoose
Summary: the one where simon is a warlock who was raised by jocelyn with no knowledge of his true identity - until him and clary run into a group of shadowhunters, and by extension magnus bane, at the exact wrong time.or: Magnus is a salty dad, Jocelyn makes bad decisions, Simon is confused, shadowhunters check their downworld privilege, and Clary is really, really gay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this idea was sprung by a mutual need of a friend and I who both want more Simon Lewis based fics,, and then it spiraled to here. i have next to no idea where this is going so please submit ideas for scenes if you have them - i'm open to pretty much anything at this point.  
> title's from this rupi kaur peom:  
> the world  
> gives you  
> so much pain  
> and here you are  
> making gold out of it

The thing is, Simon is very used to weird shit happening to him. He even has a list. In fifth grade his teachers hair turned blue in the middle of a lesson, and in sixth the frogs they were supposed to dissect suddenly leapt from their locked cages. When he was little the cookies he was denied would appear in his hand. Sometimes his fingers itched, like something was building under his skin, fighting to get out. Sometimes he swore his freckles - which seemingly painted his face and body more than actual skin - moved of their own accord. 

That being said, weird shit is in no way a good description of going out with Clary for her birthday, finding a weird dude with weird tattoos, following said dude (and Clary) across a club, and finding said dude killing… things? Yeah no not people. People didn't have  _ fucking tentacle mouths.  _ That was not a people thing.

The part about racing home and tumbling through the door, Jocelyn waiting up for them like she usually did, was all a dazed blur of confusion and itchy hands to Simon. It'd been a weird night. Simon was half sure it was about to get even weirder.

“ - and that - that sword thing! It just lit up!” Clary’s voice scrambled across the room. She hadn't stopped pacing. Simon was too busy scratching his hands to do anything else but listen to her retelling.

“Right Simon?” His head shot up. He nodded

Words were too much, but Clary seemed satisfied anyway. Or as satisfied as one could be in this situation. “What  _ were  _ those things? Wh - what was happening? Mom we need to call Luke we need - “

Something shattered on one of the shelves.

Clary screeched, hands flying to her head, startled, but Jocelyn only shot a glance at Simon. For his part, Simon was beyond noise, his surprise more about Clary's reaction than the shattering itself.

While Clary had paused to stare bewildered at the wreckage Jocelyn stood - the only calm one in the room - and walked over to Clary, placing her hands on her shoulders.

“Clary - Clary I need you to look at me. Good. Now breath okay? Just breath with me sweetheart.”

Simon's hands still itched.

“Mom I don't… I don't understand - “

“I know. I know you don't but I’ll explain it all I promise.”

Something else broke. “What?” Simon's legs surprised him as they jumped up from the couch and started towards the two of them.

“Simon....”

“You - you  _ knew _ what was happening? You know what's going on?”

“That's not what I said.” 

Clary's eyes darted to Simon, “but you said you'd explain? Mom?” For a second Simon swore Jocelyn looked… defeated. But then the expression was gone, sent away by steel and her firm grip on his shaking arm.

“Look. What I did I did to protect the two of you, I love nothing in this world the same way.” Her grip tightened as her voice did. 

“Mom, you're scaring me.”

This time something didn't break so much as fly across the room and smash against the wall. They duck, each with a small shriek as another object soon follows, and another. God, Simon's hands  _ burn,  _ his eyes do too. But that's for a completely different reason, he thinks.

“Simon!” Jocelyn let's go of Clary to grab both his arms. “Simon you need to calm down!” He can hear Clary saying - shouting - something, but it sounds far away. Underwater almost. He tries to form words but all that comes is another  _ smash  _ and then -

“I'm sorry about this Simon.” There's the blur of Jocelyn's hand, something metal, and then nothing.

  
  


The first thing he's aware of is voices. Then it's the throbbing ache in his head, and then the fact that whatever he's laying on is definitely not anything he recognizes. Basically: Simon has no idea where he is. Which is always a great feeling.

“Mom - mom! He's awake!” Clary? Yeah, Clary. Opening his eyes he can say with at least 90% certainty that Clary is the person sitting next to him. She looks tired, her hair thrown up messily and her eyes red rimmed and confused. 

“What…. Clary what's happening?” Trying to sit up Simon became aware of the lack of noise in the room. The voices stopped. Rubbing his head Simon looks over the edge of the couch - that's what he was laying on! A couch! A weirdly soft couch. Wherever they were it wasn't any place Simon had seen before. The walls were brick and the furniture was modern, but smatterings of things far too old for the rest of the space laid about. Jocelyn was standing a little ways off next to someone that seemed… almost familiar, both of them turned to face him and Clary. Jocelyn rushed over, kneeling in front of him and brushing his hair out of his face (and why was that not as comforting as it would have been this morning?) but Simon was focused on the man. For the hour of the night it must have still been he was dressed remarkably: a glittering black dress that fell to his knees, rings about his fingers and a red shimmering sweater hanging off his shoulders, with necklaces roping around his neck. His hair was dark, but it's ends were spiked and golden - his eyes gazing at Simon almost sadly.

“Do I - do I know you?” Jocelyn stopped her fretting as he spoke, everyone in the room froze. The man's eyes widened the slightest bit, but then stopped as he gave a small smile and stepped towards the couch.

“Yes we have met before, but it was a long time ago. I doubted you'd remember.” Simon didn't think it could be that long ago - the man couldn't be more than five years older than himself - but his voice too was sad as he spoke and Simon found himself believing him.

“Simon this is Magnus Bane, he's an old friend of mine.” He turned towards Jocelyn as she spoke. She, however, only looked towards the man - Magnus he supposed.

“Friend is a word for it.” His voice made it sound like it wasn't. Simon caught Clary's eye. There was only so much confusion a guy could take, and Simon was fast approaching the limit.

“Weren't you going to call our dear Luke? I can look after the little ones while you speak with him.” Frowning at being called a ‘little one’ (seriously Magnus couldn't be  _ that  _ much older than him) Simon watched as Jocelyn simply nodded, getting up and leaving. 

For a second, silence, then:

“Drinks, anyone?”

  
  


The drinks Magnus returned with were, to Simon's dismay, not alcoholic. Ice clinked against the glasses as he handed out their waters, sitting down opposite where Clary and Simon had settled themselves on the couch. They all took a drink. They could hear the echo of Jocelyn's voice from the other room. 

“How's your head, Simon?” Magnus looked at him curiously over the rim of his glass. Simon gulped, half unsure of his answer. His head didn't hurt, really, but all the confusion was forming the beginning of a truly wonderful headache.

“It's uh… it's fine. Feels better now.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Simon nodded.

“I think we’re both just,” Clary seemed to search for the right word as she fidgeted in her seat, “confused.”

“Ah yes, Jocelyn did say you two had quite the ordeal last night.” Magnus leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them carefully. It was the type of look that knew too much, like just from meeting your eyes he could suddenly understand your entire life. It wasn't nearly as disconcerting as Simon thought it should be.

“Would you mind telling me about it? Just while we're waiting, of course.”

Simon went rigid.

“I don't - “ Magnus cut Clary off.

“You don't think I'll believe you?” She nodded hesitantly. “Well I think you'll find, my dear, that there are very few things I won't believe. So: what happened last night?”

Clary looked over at him, tense and searching for some kind of sign, but Simon doesn't know what to do either. His head hurts, and his hands itch where they clutch his glass. There's too many questions. Simon isn't sure explaining what happened would really help at this point.

That's when Jocelyn walked back in.

“Clary and Simon don't have to explain themselves.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. “No,” his voice was cold, shocking compared to the light he'd been pouring over Clary and him, “ _ they  _ don't. I'd say you, however, you do.”

For a moment the silence was so thick Simon swore the walls groaned under its weight.

“Mom?” Clary's voice was soft. “What's he talking about? Is it…?” Simon tried to ignore when her eyes flickered over to him, remembering smashing objects and Jocelyn's voice. 

“Yes sweetheart, but it's much more than that.”

“What? What do you -”

“Come now biscuit,” it was Magnus who spoke this time, “you can't say that you've never noticed something  _ missing _ ? A fleeting dream? Something out of the corner of your eye? An itch you can't scratch? Tell me none of this is even the slightest bit familiar.” However much Simon had managed to relax immediately abandoned him, the glass in his hand cringes under his grip.  _ An itch you can't scratch,  _ a feeling Simon knows all too well - one he's never been able to quite explain, or understand. The closest he's gotten is his list. Which now, despite the last time he looked at it being only hours ago, feels far away. He tries to remember the last thing he added to it - when the peanut butter in Luke's sandwich suddenly turned to mayo - but he can't seem to recall it correctly. Tentacle mouth creatures (people?) and head trauma did that he guessed. Clary, on the other hand just grew more agitated, springing from the couch. Her frenzied pacing going back and forth back and forth.

“How could any of this be  _ familiar _ ? I just saw a - a… I don't know  _ what  _ get  _ killed  _ by some blonde  _ freak  _ and his friends and then -”

“Clary,” she stops at the sound of his voice, “maybe we should let them finish.” They'd been confused for hours (years, maybe, for Simon at least) if answers were available, well, he wasn't going to turn them away.

Jocelyn stepped forward, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It may take us a while. There's a… lot you need to know.”

“But you  _ will _ explain, right?”

“Yes. I promise.” 

Clary nodded, satisfied for the moment, and sat down. Jocelyn took her own seat next to Magnus, a deep breath, and then began.

“All of the legends - werewolves, vampires, magic - they're all true.”

And that's where Simon gave up.

“Look if you're not going to take this seriously -”

“We  _ are  _ Simon, if you'd sit back down and allow us to continued you'd understand.” Magnus said. He hadn't even realized he was standing, but whatever, didn't matter. 

“ _ NO!  _ Clary's right what -”

Something whizzed past his head. Even though Clary screeched Simon's only reaction was  _ seriously, again?  _ Or, at least it was until he saw that Magnus had  _ caught  _ the vase that had been sent flying. Caught it in a wave? Cloud? Of… Simon wasn't sure but it was  _ purple  _ and  _ flying  _ and certainly not  _ normal. _

Magnus, however, only smiled at he and Clary's bamboozled expressions. “Where were we… oh yes,  _ magic _ ?”

“What? How -”

“Magic. Now sit, Simon, and allow us to continue.”

Simon sat.

  
  


Simon's head was spinning. Where he was once filled with confusing eating away and looking for answers he was now stuffed full of them, new  _ impossible  _ knowledge overwhelming him. All these things - stories of monsters and demons and  _ magic _ \- they were all  _ true _ . And Jocelyn was involved in them. Jocelyn, and therefore Clary too, were shadowhunters: nephilims trained from childhood to defend humans from demonic forces. Magnus - Jocelyn’s “old friend” - was a warlock, the magical and immortal children of demons. There was a whole world he had never known existed. Simon couldn’t believe it. Simon  _ had _ to believe it. 

The tattoos, the weird pen Jocelyn had given Clary the night before, the tentacle face demon things, every memory from his childhood Simon could never quite identify, all of it true. All of it real. But then… what did that mean for his list? His blue haired teacher, the run away frogs, did that mean they were all part of this - what had Magnus called it? The downworld that was it - downworld too? Was it all connected? The shadowhunters and Clary’s drawings, her missing memories. The downworld and Simon and his itching hands and his list of strange things. Maybe. In an odd way he hoped so.

“Simon?” He looked up from his lap to Magnus, who had stood out of his own seat and had collected everyone else’s glasses. “Would you help me with the dishes? I’m afraid being up all night has made us all rather groggy - might be best to eat something before we go any further.” Even as Simon nodded his agreement Joelyn was glaring at the back of Magnus’ head as if it had done something to her personally.

“Magnus…” 

“No coffee for you then Jocelyn? I’ll keep that in mind.” She frowned even more as he cut her off, waving Simon in the direction of the kitchen. 

As they walked into it Simon found himself wondering how big his apartment even was. The kitchen was at least the size of the living room that they had been in previously, and was just as immaculately put together. Magnus passed him as he ogled, plucking the glass he had been holding from his hand and taking it over to the sink with the rest.

“What are you thinking? Pancakes? Omelets?” 

Simon hadn’t given it much thought, so he just shrugged. “I don’t know… couldn’t you just - I don’t know -  _ magic _ some food here anyway?” Magnus smiled at him like he was a silly child. Simon was sure it was a lot nicer smile when it was directed at a child.

“No,” Magnus shook his head softly, “I could summon food from somewhere else but I can’t create it out of thin air. Even magic has its limits.”

“Oh.” Simon couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Magnus merely smiled again and took a plate down from a nearby cupboard, placing it and four other smaller plates next to it on the counter between them. He sent Simon to get everyone new glasses - and wow did the man have a lot of wine glasses in that cabinet - but when he came back and set them next to the plates Magnus was giving him a strange look. It was almost that look from before, the sad one that seemed ever so familiar to Simon for reasons he can’t explain.

“Simon, I - “ Magnus stopped, his eyes flickering to the doorway and then back to Simon, who followed his gaze only to find nothing there but the empty holloway.

“What - what are you looking .. ?”

“Nothing, no need to worry Simon.” Magnus said a little too quickly. “Now please, croissants or bagels?”

“Bagels.” Barely a second after he spoke Magnus had waved his hand and a pile of bagels in all sizes and shapes had appeared on the plate in front of him. “ _ Whoa _ .”

“Yes summoning food does have it’s perks, especially from the bakery a werewolf runs a little ways from here, always fresh.”

“Yeah I bet.” It was then that Simon realized something. “Magnus?” 

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t need my help with breakfast.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Why…?”

“Why did I call you in here?”

Simon nodded.

“Because, Simon, although Jocelyn may mean well she is still a shadowhunter.” Magnus flickered his eyes back to the doorway and Simon felt a spike of confusion. Jocelyn had said that the shadowhunters protected the downworlders and the humans from each other. She’d hidden the truth from Clary to protect her from the fallout of a war. Of course, none of that meant he hadn’t missed Magnus glaring at her out of the corner of his eye whenever she spoke of the greatness of the shadowhunters, or of the downworlders.

“But she said… “ 

“I know. Shadowhunters may be a part of our world, but they grow up completely separated from it. They believe themselves better than the rest of us - for how could any demon blooded creature be anything but a cruel vicious monster?” Magnus scowled and waved a hand to fill his glass before taking a (honestly impressively long) drink. “They say that we are all equals in the eyes of the accords and yet they don’t blink an eye when downworlders are killed for nothing but sport. They’re protected, sheltered in a way. Shadowhunters can’t understand that we are fundamentally different from them, because of the ways they have  _ made _ us different.” Simon wasn’t sure he was following anymore, but Magnus took another swig of his drink and seemed about to say more so Simon stayed silent.

“I’ve questioned Jocelyn’s choice to withhold the truth from Clary since she first came to me, but I respected it. If the truth were known the girl would be persecuted due to no fault of her own doing, but as the years went on things changed. Things changed with you, Simon.” Magnus stepped around the counter, placing a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“I - what? I don’t - “

“Being a warlock is different from being a shadowhunter. Withholding a magical beings identity from them it’s… dangerous, perhaps even cruel.”

“Magnus I - “

“I thought that last night would have changed things but Jocelyn still refuses to see reason. Even if she will admit the truth to Clary she will not do so with you - “ 

“What are you saying Magnus?” Simon’s heart wouldn’t stop beating. His hands itched. The truth was there, tangible and real and…. for once Simon wasn’t sure he wanted it. “Are you saying that I’m - I’m, what? Like  _ you _ ? That I’m a warlock? That this is some kind of Harry Potter  _ yer a wizard _ kind of shit?” This time when Magnus smiled it didn’t seem happy.

“Yes, Simon, I suppose that is what I’m saying.”

Simon, in that moment, really wished there was a camera for him to look into.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: most of this chapter is Simon having a panic attack, if you don't want to read it I'll put a summary of what happened in the end notes.

There was no camera. There  _ was,  _ however, Magnus Bane’s face right in front of his, so Simon figured his dumbfounded look got his feelings across pretty well.

Because that couldn't -  _ wasn't  _ \- true. Simon was as normal as they came. As normal as a eighteen year old Jewish, freckled, adopted, itchy hands, list keeping, Star Wars loving kid could be, anyway. If -  _ If -  _ his list was connected to the downworld, which yeah it might be okay, he wasn't - he couldn't be…

“Okay, well first of all if we’re going with this you make a horrible Hagrid - no dragons and, honestly, a little short.” A little light appeared in the warlock’s smile as Simon spoke. “I, however, make a  _ great  _ Harry. Got the glasses and inability to talk to people I find attractive and everything. So, uh, nice talk but I'm gonna go…. “ As Simon waved his thumbs over his shoulders a realization hit him, stopping his backwards footsteps so suddenly he almost fell. He didn’t want to go. Not back to Jocelyn and Clary sitting stoic and angry on the couches anyway. And leaving the apartment just felt  _ wrong.  _ Like he would be breaking something fragile if he did. But whatever this was couldn't have been as fragile as Simon thought it was. Everything about this  _ was  _ familiar, Magnus and his smiles, the walls, the rough edges Jocelyn tried so hard to hide, and, and the blue sparks of magic. He knew this. He  _ knew  _ this. Didn't he? 

His thoughts of it were fuzzy but if he tried Simon thought maybe, just maybe, he could remember. The memories were clouded over by age and neglect but there was something  _ there  _ and Simon  _ knew  _ it. Even as the feeling of something empty sitting inside him that he’d carried around for years erased itself from his stomach he felt uneasy. This was what he forgot? What he’d been missing his whole life? This  _ world?  _ This…  _ him _ ? 

Him?

What did that mean for him? Did that mean that Magnus - was Magnus not… joking? Was he  _ serious _ ? Was Simon a -

“Oh god. Oh  _ god -  _ what the  _ fuck  _ holy -” Simon could hardly breathe. Whatever footing he had regained early was lost as he stumbled over to the counter, grabbing onto it with white, itching knuckles.

Magnus was over in a second, pulling him up by his elbows when the counter wasn't enough to keep him steady. He was talking, Simon was sure, but he couldn't hear whatever it was. His vision was blurry now too, rough with tears. He blinked them back with all his remaining might, wheezing his way through each barely there breath. Simon recognized through the haze as Magnus waved a hand in front of him and -

“What the _ fuck!”  _ Simon scrambled back (when had he ended up on the floor?) until his head hit the wall with a dull  _ thud _ . There was  _ green  _ just  _ floating  _ above his  _ hands.  _ They weren't itching they were just - they were - something else clattered as Clary and Jocelyn appeared out of nowhere.

Or, well, not nowhere, he realized in the split second that, amongst his panic, Simon had a crystal clear picture of the room. Magnus was crouched in front of him with his hands widespread and non-threatening, while Jocelyn and Clary stood shell shocked in the doorway.

“Simon, cookie,  _ please _ \- “ Magnus? Simon couldn't tell, everything was blurry again. 

“Magnus!  _ What did you do _ !?” That was Jocelyn.

“What you never had the courage to do! Simon deserves to know the truth just as much as Clary!”

“You think I don't know that?” The yelling was far, far too  _ loud.  _ Simon could even hear it over his own breathing.

There was a hand on his shoulder.

Simon jumped, his heart hammering even more when he recognized Clary crouching next to him. Jocelyn and Magnus were still yelling but it felt different, farther away, dimmer.

“Hey,” even though Clary was whispering and everyone else was yelling she sounded closer. Louder. “Remember when, in middle school, we were playing soccer with that kid - Jerry Thomas - and he kicked me in the shins ‘cause I was better than him?” Simon nodded. He remembered, even amongst the haze. Thomas had been a jerk, constantly pushing and hissing. Getting assigned to his team in gym had felt like a death sentence. When Clary had wiped the floor with him for three soccer games in a row he'd lost it, kicking at her shins and spitting names at her - but then the ball, from the other side of the field, swooped in and knocked him on his ass. It was the hardest Simon and Clary laughed all that year. When he had worked up the courage to tell Clary it had been the first thing she had suggested he put on it, her glittering, sloping words standing out against his own scratching ones. Clary’s hand reached for his, squeezing it, a lifeline. She smiled.

“What about when Luke dragged us out fishing and everything he caught jumped straight back into the water?”

Simon nodded again. He had a photo of the three of them from that trip on his desk.

“Mrs. Simmons and her blue hair?” Clary continued listing the numerous mysterious incidents from their childhood, each time waiting for his nodded before describing another. 

Eventually Clary’s voice became the only noise in the room. The tightness in Simon’s chest loosened - not gone, but breathable - his hands downgraded from tremors to slight shivers. He couldn't look at them, afraid that if he did his wrists would be wrapped in green and burning… but he could listen to Clary. He did. He  _ was.  _

“What about… what about junior prom? You know when Maria Johnson got the punch dropped on her head but it spilled on everyone  _ but  _ her? Completely ruined my dress.”

Simon didn't get a chance to nod.

“That's quite an impressive display, Simon, especially untrained.” His heartbeat sped up again as he registered Magnus speaking. Cautiously Simon moved his eyes away from the spot of flooring he'd been staring at to the other side of the room. Magnus had sat down near them on the tile, just far enough away that he wouldn’t seem to be intruding, and Jocelyn stood by the doorway, arms crossed but face concerned. Simon swallowed his whole throat - a useless gesture, as the nerves stayed and Clary spoke for him.

“I don't know what's happening. I'm still - I'm still… new to this. Both of us are. Which means  _ both of us  _ deserve answers.” Her glare was hard and sharp on Magnus and her mother. “To  _ all  _ of our questions.”

“Clary - “ Jocelyn stepped forward, but at a look from Magnus she stopped. The warlock turned back to the two of them.

“If you both want to know then we will tell you.”

Simon wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

But he did need to, and that was worth trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao hi here's an itty bitty chapter bc I'm procrastinating Everything rn including things I love.  
> Not much happened in this chapter, I know, but for those who skipped it: Simon made a bad Harry Potter joke and then through some realization and memory figured out that Magnus was telling the truth, had a panic attack, Magnus and Jocelyn yelled at each other, and Clary calmed Simon down while also being a bad ass and telling the adults off. Next bit should be the last of the exposition. Luke may or may not show up and also there may be flashbacks - not sure yet.  
> As for the time being thank you everyone who read I haven't posted in years and never to this account so any response feels amazing, keep givin me ideas and prompts for this I love them! A special thank you to my friend Jamie who has the best Simon Lewis headcanons and is generally the love of my life. Thank you guys so much I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a disappointment!


End file.
